Happy Birthday
by Agent Sculder
Summary: Dean Winchester gives a lonely woman the best birthday gift ever. One-shot. Complete.


As with all fan-fiction, this is only for fun, not profit. Dean Winchester does not belong to me. No matter how much I wish it were so!

**Author's Note: Just a plot bunny I couldn't shake! Nothing revolutionary here, but I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is always welcome.**

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, enjoying the coolness of the leather against his hands as he drove. He gunned the engine, watched as the tachometer rose, and the popped the clutch, shifting her into the next gear. After a fight with Sam, driving the Impala was just what Dean needed to clear his head. These days it seems like all they did when they weren't trying to stop the Apocalypse was fight.

Truth be told, at this point, he could barely remember what the damn fight had even been about or who'd even started it. It could have even been him. But before it could come to blows, he grabbed his leather jacket and bailed. The cool night air burned in his lungs, but it was better than the stale air of their umpteenth crappy motel room. Sam could have the whole damn place to himself.

He defiantly cranked the volume on the stereo, letting the crunching guitars of "Wherever I May Roam" fill the vehicle as he recklessly sped along the rural route. Up ahead he spotted a glowing red neon sign that read "Lucky's". In a small town like this, it could only be one kind of establishment. It was just the kind of place he needed right now.

The driver's side door of the Impala shut with a satisfying slam, and Dean considered his options. As he saw it, he had three. There was the objectively practical option: he could go in there, have a couple beers, and then hustle his way into a few games of pool or a poker game and make enough scratch to carry him and Sam through their next couple of jobs. Option number two was the "miserable bastard" one: get drunk. Then he'd wander back to their room in the morning after he'd slept it off in the backseat of the car. And then there was option three, his personal favorite, he could go in the bar, pick up his choice of female and lose himself in loud head board banging sex for a few hours. Preferably in the room adjoining the one Sam was in. Just the thought made him grin.

He glanced at his watch, it was only 11:30PM, meaning that option three was still viable. However, the parking lot wasn't that crowded , which was not a good sign. Most of the cars were late model imports, and Dean scoffed at the bright red compact Honda a couple of spots down from him. That one had to be a chick's car. No man would be caught dead driving that thing. So there had to be at least one lady in there.

He strode in slowly, taking in the scene, such as it was. It's not like dive bars were all that different from town to town. A group of guys in flannel shirts and trucker hats hunkered over the pool table in the far corner, cue sticks in hand. By the look of them, they'd all had a couple and their play was on the sloppy side. "Easy money," he said to himself. But right now, option # 1 was not all that appealing. Dean didn't feel like being practical at the moment.

Aside from a pair of couples, the only other people in the bar besides the bartender was a group of three twenty-somethings, drinking girly cocktails, staring at him and giggling like teenagers. All three were attractive, wearing bright hued low-cut tops and tight jeans. He gave them a quick smile, and enjoyed watching them turn to each other and giggle. They did everything but point at him. The brunette looked him up and down, clearly liking what she saw, chewing on one shiny pink lip slightly.

Muttering under his breath, "Option three is definitely looking doable, Dean-o," he reflexively retreated to the other side of the bar. All the better to watch his potential prey, and keep an eye on the door.

As badly as he wanted to get laid, his hunter's instinct never left for long. Besides, only a stupid guy wanders into a strange bar in a one streetlight town in the middle of nowhere without keeping an eye on the exits. You never knew when an irate boyfriend could show up, pissed at him for making eyes at his girl.

Dean slid onto the black leather stool, and as he glanced to the right he realized he'd missed someone. She'd been partially hidden behind one of the wooden pillars around the bar. In front of her was a martini glass, partially filled, a pair of olives still swimming in the clear liquid. Not what he expected to see in a place like this, especially from a lady. But it was no wonder he'd missed her, there was nothing particularly memorable about her. Mousy brown curly hair that came to her shoulders, glasses. Late twenties, early thirties he'd guess. A little on the chubby side, but she had a nice enough face. She was dressed way too nice for this place. For Christ sakes, it looked like she was wearing a suit! In a dive bar! Her outfit screamed business, like she'd spent the day in one of those god awful cube farms Sam had told him about.

He turned toward the harried looking barkeep, raised two fingers, and placed his order. "Double of Jack Daniels, no ice." The man nodded, and within moments, the pride of Lynchburg, Tennessee was sliding past his lips.

Dean carefully considered his options. He'd picked up women who had started the night with their girlfriends before, but it was always a tricky business. If one of them got jealous, things would get nastier than a run in with a pissed off poltergeist in a hurry. It would be much safer to stick to the Jack Daniels, and then jerk off in the shower later. But Dean had never been one to play it safe, particularly when a hot girl was involved.

"Nina's the one you want, the brunette," came a female voice off to his right. It was the martini lady. She was kicking back the last of her drink with her right hand, her left twirling the toothpick that had held her olives.

"Are you talking to me?" Dean inquired, immediately ruing his choice of words. God, he sounded like a bad De Niro impression.

"No, the other ridiculously hot mystery guy who just walked into the bar," she shot back, her eyes fixed on the man behind the bar. "Henry, I'll have another one of these please. You know how I like 'em, nice and dry." She carefully pushed her glass toward the bartender, and neatly placed her toothpick into the glass.

For the first time, he took a closer look at her. His first impression was pretty spot-on, but he'd missed the sadness in her expression. Sad women, along with all things Sam related were a weakness. If he could make her smile, he would have done his good deed for the day, and had a clear conscience to move ahead with detaching Nina from her friends.

"So you like vodka martinis?"

"Hush your mouth! I only drink the real deal, gin. Ice cold with plenty of olives," she protested, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly as she said it. Dean couldn't help smirking into his Jack Daniels as he drained his glass and signaled for another round.

"Just FYI, the red-head, Sharon, is engaged if she's more your type. Although, she might make an exception for you," she said, tilting her head to the right as she frankly gave him the once over.

Dean nearly did a spit-take. Who the hell was this lady? What was the harm in two consenting adults getting it on?

"Excuse me, lady, but how the fuck would you know what I came in here for? Maybe I'm like you, just trying to get drunk to forget a shitty day," he retorted, annoyed a stranger saw him so clearly. He hoped to hell that would shut her up.

No such luck.

"Uh-huh, and if I believe that, the tooth fairy is real."

"You'd be surprised." And then it was her turn to look incredulous. "Lady, I could tell you stories that would set your hair on fire."

"That may be so, but I can only think of one reason why a guy like you would even come in here. You're not a local or I'd recognize you. Because believe me, I don't think I'd forget seeing you," she said as she drained the last of her drink. She sounded a bit tipsy, but she wasn't drunk just yet. If he had to guess, she only said that because the liquor had loosened her up. Her conservatively cut navy blue blazer indicated that was the straight-laced sort. The kind of chick who had sex with the lights off in the missionary position. Definitely not the "hits on random guys" in bars type. But he had to admit, this was kinda fun. Spunky women were a turn-on.

"You hitting on me, sweetheart?" he chuckled, and he watched as her cheeks turned bright red.

Visibly chastened she turned her attention back to the bar. "Gimme another one, Henry," the lady said softly, her eyes shining, wet with unshed tears.

"You sure about that, Kate?" the bartender replied, his voice full of concern. "You've already had four. You're not gonna be able to drive home."

"Then call me a damn cab," she snapped back. "It's Friday night, and it's my goddamn birthday. If I want to get drunk and make an ass of myself, I will." Her voice was strong, but Dean could tell from her tone that she was hurting. No stranger to shitty birthdays himself, he resolved to leave her and the other women in the bar alone. No reason to make her day worse. It looked more and more like option two was going to be the way to go.

"Don't scare the guy off, Kate," the hot brunette named Nina cooed. "Just because he doesn't want your fat ass, doesn't mean he should go." She leveled her hot-eyed glance right at Dean, but at that moment, any lustful thoughts he'd had of her flew out the window. Mean girls sucked.

Without further ado, he slid his denim clad ass off his bar stool, and ambled slowly toward the mousy, sad-eyed birthday girl. Her face was lost in her drink, and she didn't notice him until he grabbed her seat and slowly spun her around toward him. He plucked the cold triangle-shaped glass from her hands and set it carefully on the bar, the whole time keeping his eyes fixed on hers. Turns out, Miss Mousy was hiding a pair of gorgeous blue-green peepers behind those specs.

He leaned in, his breath hot, and softly covered her mouth with his, a silent apology. Her lips stiffened at the contact, almost like she couldn't quite believe what was happening. He gently deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, the taste of juniper and herbs filling his mouth. She softly sighed, making the sweetest sound, and next thing he knew her hands were clinging to his light gray shirt and she was kissing him back. His face was wet, and he realized tears were streaming down her face, so he broke the kiss off, afraid he'd completely fucked up.

Staying focused on the woman in front of him, ignoring the sounds of the rest of the bar patrons, he murmured aloud the question his eyes were posing, "Why don't you let me take you home?"

The tears immediately stopped, her eyes full of questions, and for a heartbeat, he was sure she was going to turn him down.

"Yes."

Without a further word, he bent down and grabbed her purse, handing it to her. He peeled off a couple of twenties from his wallet and laid them on the bar, appreciating the nod he got from Henry. Dean was pretty sure the rest of the bar was staring at them, wondering how in the hell this had come to pass. Dean wasn't sure how it happened either, but it felt right.

It was only when she rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet, he realized she was tall. Nearly his height, and she wasn't wearing heels either. He let her walk in front of him, intuitively knowing that if he helped her she'd find it embarrassing.

Once outside, she began walking toward the Impala, and before he could ask her how she knew which one was his car, he realized she was walking toward her car, the little red Honda. Dean reached out, and grabbed her arm lightly, pulling her toward the big black car. "No, sweetheart, this one."

"Oh OK." Her voice was shaking. She was so damn nervous, it was almost adorable. "Your car is beautiful," she said as he opened the passenger door for her.

"Restored her all by myself," he said with a smile.

"You must be good with your hands," she replied without thinking how that would sound, given the circumstances.

As much as Dean would have loved to let it slide by, he couldn't resist saying, "I am, sweet pea. And you're gonna find out how good as soon as you tell me how to get your place." She blushed again, and he shut the door softly.

Dean slid his key into the ignition, and started the engine. The noise startled his passenger, who was clearly not used to the sound of a big block. He calmly asked her for directions to her place, and she softly gave them; guiding him to a cute little house only a couple of miles from the bar.

He followed her to the door and watched her as she opened the door. Her hand was steady as she unlocked the door, holding it open so he could easily walk by her. Once inside the first thing he noticed was the smell. It smelled like a damn bakery; like yeast mixed with hot sugar, butter, and cinnamon. He breathed in deep, the scent temporarily taking back to his long ago childhood, and the Sunday mornings when his mom would let him help her bake. His "helping" usually involved licking spoons covered in cake batter and pie filling.

Kate's voice brought him out of his reverie, "Thanks for the ride home. You don't have to do this, you know. I have a guest bedroom." She kept darting her eyes around, unable to look at him as she said it.

He took her chin in one hand, and forced her to look at him. "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here." He kissed her again, hotter this time, hungrily devouring her with his mouth. He grabbed her waist and backed her toward the door, never stopping his furious assault. She moaned loudly into his mouth, and he pulled her keys and purse out of her hand and placed them on the little table by the door. Her hands free, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her. Dean ground his hips against hers, letting her feel how hot she was making him.

The feel of his erection though his jeans made her gasp; and without even thinking about it she wrapped her left leg around his. Loving the added friction, Dean buried his head in the crook of her neck, kissing and nibbling. He moved his hands from her waist, starting to unbutton her blazer when she stopped him. Her ecstasy of a moment ago, melting away; but she was breathing hard and her eyes were a blazing shade of turquoise.

"God, I can't do this! I don't even know you're name!" chastising herself. "You're a stranger, and I can't believe I brought you home. " She smiled, "I must have been rendered stupid by the hot."

He smiled back. He thought about giving her one of his aliases, but quickly decided against it. "I'm Dean. And the hot has been known to do that. Why don't we take this to your room? Although I could oblige you in here if you like." He waggled his brows at her.

Her head fell back to rest against the door, and she spoke to the ceiling, unable to look at him for a moment. "Oh God, this MUST be a dream. You are too hot to be real! You are too hot to be here with me."

"You need to stop thinking so much," he said as he undid the buttons on her blazer. He slid his hands up her white silk blouse, feeling her up. "Just think about how good this is making you feel," he whispered hotly in her ear.

That seemed to have gotten through to her, and she took his callous roughened hand in her soft one, and brought him upstairs to her small bedroom. With the lights off he couldn't see much, but it looked like she had a good size bed. He muttered a silent prayer of thanks. It was difficult to have hot sex in a twin bed. Not impossible though. At least in his experience.

"Dean, I have to ask," but before she could finish he cut her off. "Yes, I have protection," figuring that was her question.

He realized he guessed wrong when she continued, "This isn't a pity fuck, is it? Because if it is, just tell me now. If you're not really into me it's OK. I understand." Her voice was soft and resigned, like she already knew his answer.

"Did the way I kissed you downstairs feel like pity to you?" To make his point, he took her hand and placed it on his crotch. "Does that feel like pity?" She shook her head.

"Can we keep the lights off then?" her voice nearly squeaked.

"No, I wanna see those magnificent tits you're covering up in that outfit," he replied firmly. And with that he flipped the switch on, bathing the room in soft light. He hoped she wouldn't freak out at his choice of language, but when he got horny any manners he'd ever had went out the window.

"I want to see you when you come all over me."

After that they didn't say that much. She let him take the lead, although she wasn't passive either. Her hands tugged off his leather coat and shirt as he maneuvered her toward her bed, kissing her like he couldn't breathe without his lips making contact with her skin in some way. When the back of her legs reached it, he laid her down, and really got down to business.

Dean got her out of the jacket and blouse in record time, taking in the sight of her very practical flesh toned bra. And he'd been right, she did have great tits, and he really could not wait to get his hands on them. He practically dove into her cleavage, his hands tweaking her nipples into sharp points. She was already keening his name, and he'd barely touched her. She needed this fuck just as bad as he did.

Once he got her pants off, he couldn't resist sliding his right hand underneath the waistband of her panties, feeling how hot and wet she was. He pushed a thick finger inside her, and she bucked against him. Her pussy was tight, so he took his time finger fucking her, using his thumb against her clit stroking it in time with his strokes.

"Oh God, I'm gonna . . ."

"That's right baby, you come for me. Come as hard as you want, baby. I love how you feel." All it took was a couple more strokes, and she came hard, her tight pussy rippling around his finger. Her face was a picture of bliss, eyes shut, head thrown back, hands clutching at the coverlet on the bed. The very picture of what every bad porno he'd ever watched told him a woman's orgasm looked like. The main difference being, she wasn't faking it.

A few tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes and he had to ask, "You doin' OK, honey?"

"More than OK," she responded, out of breath, the sound of satisfaction clear in her voice.

"Good, 'cause I'm not nearly done with you yet," he drawled, inching his way down her body, dropping hot kisses along her chest and stomach. He stopped to dip his tongue into her belly button, and then continued on his way down, even though he could hear her protestations that "he didn't have to do this".

What Kate didn't know was that "this" was something he'd ever considered a chore. Some guys didn't like it, but Dean thought they were nuts. Eating a woman out, and having her come in his mouth was easily in his personal top 5 of sexual acts. Nothing else quite tasted like a woman, even though they were all different, and couldn't get enough of it. Even better than homemade apple pie.

He dragged her panties down her long legs tossing them into the pile of her clothes. He remained basically fully clothed, but he really didn't mind. There was no rush, even though his dick might have thought otherwise. Now that she was nearly naked, and they were in less harsh light he could really see her. Yeah, she didn't have a tight flat stomach, but she had curves in all the places a woman was supposed to. She might not win a beauty contest, but he'd rather have her than the hot bodied but nasty Nina.

Dean reached down and gently but firmly placed his hands on her knees, drawing them up so her feet were now lying flat against the mattress. He kept his eyes on her questioning ones, silently communicating his desire. He could tell she still wasn't sure about this, so he set about showing her that there was nothing to be nervous about.

He eagerly lapped at her pink folds, tasting her sweetness on his tongue. She was super-slick, still drenched from coming earlier. His mouth quickly found what he was looking for, and he gave her clit a long lick. He heard her sigh, "Oh _Dean_," and he went back to the task at hand, grinning greedily to himself. He sucked and tongued her clit, using his hands to help her keep her legs open. She was so lost in pleasure, she didn't seem to realize he did need her help (just a bit) to get her off again.

She had to be getting close. A light sweat had broken out all over her body, she was canting her hips toward his face urging him on, even if the only sounds she was making were soft moans and groans. She wasn't a screamer, but that was OK. As much as he enjoyed it when a woman got vocal, he wasn't shocked Kate was on the quiet side. She seemed pretty inexperienced, and clearly had some body issues going on. Dr. Dean's prescription for that was to make her come as many times as he could before he got inside her. Then she'd be so relaxed, he could give her the sweet, hard fucking their bodies were both screaming for.

She broke hard against his face, and he slipped his tongue inside her to feel her vibrate against him. Just as she stared to come down, he brought her back up with his mouth again, and she crashed down around him. Not quite as hard this time, but he'd wanted to give her a multiple. Let her know it was possible with the right man.

As though she was remembering she was mostly naked in front of a complete stranger, Kate brought her legs down, and Dean sat up, pulling his black t-shirt off. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and then he felt one of her hands on his shoulder, the one that bore Castiel's imprint from where he drew him out of the Pit. She caressed it, as though her touch could somehow erase the mark he expected to bear his entire life. Without pausing, she leaned down, kissing and licking the violently raised pink marks, completely un-stymied in her exploration of his body.

Her other hand brushed against the tattoo on his upper chest, the one meant to help stave off possession. "You're so beautiful," she breathed, honestly awestruck by him. He attempted to lighten the moment, "Even with this?" his hand traveling right to his shoulder.

"You don't even know, do you?" her hands coming up to his face now, lightly stroking his cheekbones, her bright eyes shining into his dark, heavy lidded ones.

His mouth claimed hers in a possessive kiss, and without hesitating she gave it right back to him, sucking at his mouth, nibbling his full lips. He reached around and quickly unsnapped her bra, drawing it off her shoulders while she remained focused on driving him crazy with her kisses and soft questing hands. Meanwhile, he laid her back down, enjoying the soft pressure of her full breasts against his hard chest.

Dean quickly got lost in her softness; it was so different from the usual girls he took to bed. Different, but certainly not unpleasant in any way. Her body was so responsive to him, her light brown nipples peaking at the slightest touch, her body arching toward him, telling him just how ready she was for him. Her eagerness was a relentless turn-on. He paused only long enough to dig his wallet out his back pocket, laying it on her bedside table where he could reach it. He smiled to himself, glad he had more than one condom because he was fairly certain both of them were going to want a second go-around.

He had to sit up in order to get his boots and socks off, and she followed him up, unwilling to stop touching him, engrossed in the way his body felt to her. Once they were off, Dean slowly undid his belt, careful not to move to quickly, gauging her response, wanting to give her time if she needed it. Her eyes were fixed on the movement of his hands, and it made him wonder if the ease with which he was undressing would put her off. But it wasn't like he was about to pretend he'd never had sex with a virtual stranger before. To hunt, he had to lie all the time, but sex and the bedroom were different. There he was honest, and he wasn't about to change that for a one night stand.

His relief was almost palpable when she brought her hands down to his waist, grasping the end with the buckle, drawing it off. Then with a quick jerk she freed it completely, and dropped it on the floor. Miss Mousy was getting into it! And not a moment too soon, because if he was gonna last worth a damn, he needed to get inside her. Sure, he liked foreplay, but there were some times when a guy just needs bury himself deep inside a hot willing woman.

As he got to work getting his jeans off, Kate ran her hands down over his shoulder blades, sliding down his back, and for a moment Dean was almost certain she was going to grab his ass. Instead, her hands played with the waistband of his black boxer briefs, only occasionally dipping her fingers inside to lightly caress the skin around his hips. Her feather light touches were getting him almost as keyed up as a blow job would. He couldn't help groaning, a combination of frustration and pure need, and when he did so he felt her open her legs just a bit wider, making room for him.

Dean took the hint, taking her hands, guiding them so that together they pulled off his last remaining clothes. Without any prompting, she took his cock in hand. He was so fucking hard, but he wanted her to give him more pressure so he used one hand to show her what he liked. Soon enough, she was jacking him off like a pro, alternating firm and light pressure, and Dean swore the top of his head was about to come off.

He groped for the bed side table, and managed to dig out a condom. He brushed the dark blue foil packet against her arm to get her attention, "Baby, you wanna put this on me?" When she shook her head in the negative, he quickly tore it open, and slipped the latex on himself. Unable to wait, Dean positioned himself between her thighs, and guided his dick to her weeping entrance.

He wanted to go slowly, but the moment he started sliding in, and he could feel how tight she was, his lower brain took over and he pushed in hard. Harder than he meant to, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had felt like this. Dean felt her shudder, and he was about to apologize, when it hit him square between the eyes. He was a damn fool.

"You should have told me," he said, staying buried inside her but not moving so she could get used to his size.

"Too embarrassed," she replied sheepishly. "And you never would have believed me anyway."

It was true. At a complete loss for words for once, Dean brought his mouth down to hers, softly kissing her. In another surprise, it was she who slipped her tongue into his mouth first, making the kiss deeper. He started giving her long, slow strokes even though his body was screaming at him to take her hard. Her hands rested on his shoulders as though she was unsure of what she was supposed to do.

" 'S okay baby, just do what comes natural," he reassured her. "Don't be afraid to tell me if I'm hurting you."

As her hips started to rise to meet his thrusts, he started to grind against her harder, snapping his hips faster.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," she moaned, her voice rising.

OK, maybe he was wrong about her NOT being vocal. Dean had never been so quite so happy to be so wrong. Maybe she just needed some encouragement.

"You want it harder, baby? You gotta tell me," he rasped into her ear. He gave her a sharp thrust and bit down slightly on her earlobe, then soothed the pain with his tongue.

"Yes. Please," she begged, her voice dripping with sex.

"Say it," he pushed back at her, wanting to break past her nerves and fear that somehow this could be wrong. Good girls didn't let bad boys take them home and fuck them after a half hour. But losing oneself to pleasure in the arms of a stranger was one his few great joys, one he refused to let go of.

Not even a trip to Hell had made a dent in his pursuit of that very particular sin.

When you'd seen as much fucked up shit as he had, and done the fucked up things he'd done, Dean was glad there was one thing he was good at that made other people happy. At least temporarily. That had to count for something, right?

"You feel so fucking good, baby, so tight and wet and hot," the words tumbling out his mouth as he hammered into her quivering flesh, his body making a litany to hers. He could feel the vibrations starting from deep within her. She wouldn't need much more to come again.

"Keep your eyes open, I wanna see them when you come this time," he ordered, and they snapped open to gaze into his. Without pausing, he reached between them and fingered her clit hard, and seconds later his cock was rewarded by the strong contractions of her pussy.

The orgasm seemed to free the last bit of control she'd imposed on herself. "Don't stop! Please keep fucking me. Need you to just keep fucking me," she moaned, and he was more than happy to oblige because he wasn't ready to come just yet.

Taking her hands in his, he got her to wrap them around the dark metal swirls that made up her backboard, the position showcasing her tits to perfection. He suckled one hard nipple, and soon her hands were in his hair, and her back was arching up towards him. He moved onto the other one, savoring the salt tang of sweat on her creamy skin, barely noticing the fine white lines along the top of her breast.

Of her own volition, she wrapped her long legs around his hips, allowing him to deepen his angle of penetration. His stokes turned fast and short as his body raced to the finish line, even though his mind had other ideas. But there was no stopping the inevitable and he exploded, his release making his body tingle all over, washing away the dust of the road, and all his nagging worries about Sam. In that moment, everything was perfect.

Dean pulled out and got rid of the condom as unobtrusively as he could, and although it wasn't his usual practice, he pulled her into his body, cradling it. It was a bit awkward since she was just about his size, but he felt her relax against him, resting her head against his shoulder. His free hand drifted up and began to stroke her curly hair in a soothing gesture without thinking about it. They laid companionably in the silence that way, just enjoying the sounds of their still heavy breathing for several long minutes until Dean realized there was something he HAD to ask her before he left.

"Why'd you wait so long?"

She flipped herself around so they were now facing each other, but unwilling to break the contact she pulled them together so from the hips down they were connected. Kate closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before she spoke. "I used to be fat. Well, fatter than I am now." She opened her eyes slowly, fearing the ridicule she expected to find there. Finding none, she continued, "I wouldn't have had sex with myself, so I figured no one was interested." She stopped there, and Dean wasn't going to push her. It really wasn't any of his business.

"Long story, I bet."

"You could say that," she replied, her eyes twinkling back at him. And then she leaned into him, kissing his mouth softly, her way of thanking him.

But Dean didn't want her thanks. Her pleasure was his, and besides, it WAS her birthday. He couldn't resist deepening the kiss, and when she responded in kind, he rolled them over, and proceeded to help her make up for lost time all over again.

As the rosy fingers of dawn crept through the windows, Dean dressed himself quietly, not wanting to wake Kate. A soft smile turned the corners of her mouth up, and with the morning light streaming through the windows, her brown hair took on a warmer shade. He hated sneaking out, but he did need to get back to Sam. They had only stopped here for the night, with no intentions to stick around.

He supposed he could grab a paper on his way back to the motel and possibly look for leads just in case there was a reason for them to stick around. But Dean knew that wasn't a good idea, no matter how much fun last night had been. Kate was a nice girl, and he didn't want to ruin things by hurting her.

Dean waited until he reached the bottom of the stairs to but his boots on. While he laced them, the smell of baked goods hit him once again, and he let his curiosity get the better of him. He snuck into the kitchen and found the counter-top covered in pastries. He knew he shouldn't, but they smelled so damn good! His right hand grabbed what looked like a chocolate-chip cookie, and he took a big bite.

The taste of dark chocolate, vanilla, with a hint of salt exploded across his taste buds. The cookie was still soft, and so laden with chocolate the heat from his hands was causing his fingers to get stained with chocolate as he ate it. Too soon it was gone, leaving Dean with a serious problem. If he took another one, would it taint Kate's memories of their night together? He really didn't want her to remember him as the one night stand that ate all her cookies while she slept.

Before he could make a decision, he heard her soft footsteps on the stairs. When he turned around she stood just in the entry way, wearing an old gray cotton bathrobe. She was rocking some seriously just-been-fucked hair, but it looked good on her. The contrast with her very serious looking glasses made him want to laugh.

"So what's the deal with the one woman bake sale you got goin' on here?" he asked.

She didn't answer but her smile widened, and she walked up to him, wiping the corner of his mouth with her thumb. "Someone's been a bad boy," she laughed. A smidgen of chocolate clung to her thumb, and she sucked it into her mouth. Out of habit, he dipped his tongue into the corner of his mouth to see if anything remained, but he also enjoying teasing her for just a moment.

"What can I say? I have a sweet tooth." He abruptly changed the subject, not wanting to start something he couldn't finish. "Sorry I woke you."

"It's fine, Dean. I don't usually sleep late anyway. As soon as heard you clomping around down here, I got up. You want some coffee before you go?" she offered as she deftly went through the motions of measuring the grounds and pouring water into her machine.

"I shouldn't," he answered.

"But you will anyway," she countered. "Something tells me you're the kind of guy who LIKES doing things he shouldn't."

As the coffee brewed they chatted, and Dean managed to wheedle out of her why her kitchen was currently occupied by several dozen cookies, loaves of bread, a coffee cake, and three pies. Kate explained that baking was her hobby, and to make a few extra bucks she would sell stuff at the local farmers market.

"Is everything you make as good as these?" he asked as he shoved another cookie in his mouth while he gulped his coffee.

"I usually sell out each week," she replied. And then her best magician's assistant impression she continued, "If anything's left I just bring it to work and it all mysteriously disappears!"

Dean couldn't help smiling back at her. She was cute when she was relaxed. If he had to bet money, his guess was she wasn't like this too often.

She cut him off at the third cookie, but before he could leave she made him take a few more for the road. They were packaged in a clear cellophane bag tied with a red bow and labeled "Kate's Treats". Never one to turn down free food, he accepted them gratefully as he headed out the door once he'd finished his coffee.

At the door she kissed him good-bye on the cheek lightly, making Dean worried that perhaps their encounter had only left her with misgivings. Before she could retreat indoors, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for one last real kiss.

Their warm breath steamed in the early morning air, the taste of French roast and chocolate lingering on their tongues. For a brief moment Dean considered backing into the house for one last go-around, but thought the better of it.

"No regrets, Kate," he said softly, his forehead resting against hers. Their eyes locked for a moment, blue meeting hazel and lingering.

"No regrets, Dean."

When he got back to the motel, Dean refused to share the cookies with Sam. He ate them slowly over the next couple of days, a tangible bittersweet reminder that he wanted to last as long as possible.


End file.
